Unraveled
by twosharks
Summary: He feels like he's been unraveling since the beginning of this. House/Cam. Post-s4-finale fic.
1. Chapter 1

Unraveled - House - fishtank36

Disclaimer: I suppose there's spoilers from the season 4 finale. This is un-beta'd.

A/N: Post-finale (s4) House/Cam fic. This idea spawned from what House said, couldn't not write it.

--

He feels like he's been unraveling since the beginning of this, since he first realized he had lost four hours, that someone on the bus was dying. He could feel the urgency in his bones, telling him to push, to solve the riddle and find this person. It was important, that he knew, but didn't know why - Amber. The person who was slowly stealing away his best friend and making him happy of all things.

"House," she gasps, when she sees him there in the ER looking absolutely horrible. She hands a nurse the patient's file and makes her way over. He's clinging to his IV stand, he's pale, drawn - obviously not resting.

"You- didn't answer- my page... pages, plural." He manages, resting his head against the cool metal of his IV stand's pole.

"I'm busy and you should be resting," she replies, not amused.

"I..." He pauses, gritting his teeth as a low growl emanates from the back of his throat. " -like... you."

"House," she warns, this is definitely not the time for this.

He shakes his head, trying to find the words. It's hard - he can still see Amber on that bus - it hurts so much to try after so long. "Wilson hates me... I-" It's one of those moments where he feels incredibly raw, vulnerable - he shouldn't have called. "I deserve it."

Cameron drops her authoritative stance, chin falling to her chest, hands slipping off her hips, "You risked your life to save her, you were in a coma, you could have-"

"Don't defend me," he pleads.

"House, you really should r-"

"Go out with me." He blurts, barely making eye contact.

He hates change. Change is hard, change hurts. The physical pain he feels is nothing in comparison to the emotional pain, the torture he inflicts on himself. He's not worth it... someone like him shouldn't be worthy of love, of affection - especially not by someone like her, who's nice and cares, who's intelligent and pretty. Hope is not something someone like him does, hope would imply caring... he hopes he's not too late.

One hand instinctively perches itself on the respective hip, she's not sure how to handle this, "This isn't something you should... right now is not the best time..."

"It's not the drugs," he insists, leaning as much weight as he can on the poor IV tower. He can feel the rug slipping out from beneath him, he was right, he never deserved that chance.

Cameron watches as what colour is left in his face drains away as his breathing gets shallow. She doesn't hesitate as she steps up to him, slipping underneath one arm as she locks one of hers around his waist, supporting him. "I'll think about it _**if**_you stay in your bed and rest."

It's not much, but it's enough. He catches her eye making sure she's serious, "Fine..." he nods, "fine."

Cameron personally escorts him back to his room, where they find Cuddy an inch away from firing somebody. "House, what the hell?"

"You were sleeping," he states simply, slipping into bed.

--

She finds him in his office, surrounded by mountains of books and files, if she didn't know better she would assume he'd lost his mind. "I need to talk to you about House."

He shakes his head not bothering to stop or look up, "I don't want to talk right now."

She shuts the door and turns around slowly, "He asked me out."

Wilson snorts, not at all amused. "I really don't... care."

"He risked his life for you and ended up in a coma," she snaps, uncharacteristically angry. "I just want to know if he's serious... he's afraid you won't stop hating him."

Wilson sighed, finally dropping his pen to address her, "House... House hates change, when- I- before he seized... he told me he was sorry... he cried." Wilson paused, running a hand over his mouth, "He's afraid of how much you'll hurt him, he's afraid he'll lose what makes him unique if he's just a little bit happy - but now..."

"He got out of bed, while Cuddy was sleeping, and came down to the ER..."

"Give him a chance," Wilson said quickly, eyes starting to water, "give him a chance."

--

When he's finally released, with a firm order that he rest, she's there. Waiting... with his backpack over one shoulder and a quiet smile. She drives him home and insists she stay, just for a little while... to feed him and make sure he's resting. As soon as they're over the threshold his lips are on hers, kissing desperately. The tears come of their own volition and he breaks down, arms wrapping tight around her. The pain slowly seeps out, down his cheek, clinging to his mouth before coursing down through the roughness of his chin.

She stands there holding him, feeling the pain that has always squeezed her heart loosen its grip. She can practically feel his walls crumbling down, his pulse running fast. "I..." He exhales - this is hard for someone like him, who keeps everything inside, "I want to try."

.


	2. Chapter 2

Unraveled 2 - House - fishtank36

Disclaimer: Eating leftover pizza that gave you a stomach ache the day before is not the smartest of ideas. And I guess I should warn you in "my fic universe" Cameron and Chase have broken up. becausethatwastheabsurdeststorylineinhowitsplayingout.

A/N: Didn't plan on writing a second part, but... alas. This is probably the end for this story, it feels like this is an ending, yes?

--

Her funeral resides on a Wednesday, an absurdly bright, sunny Wednesday. He wears a suit and a tie _and_ his shirt is tucked in. He combed his hair, he refused to shave. Wilson looked pale, practically vibrating in an effort to keep himself still.

He's not one for sentimentality. He, in fact, abhors it - it's stupid and pointless, but here he is placing three roses on her coffin.

One white, one red, and one black.

For the applicant, Wilson's girlfriend, and the woman he finally understood and accepted in death.

--

He sees Wilson standing alone, looking vacant, missing his girlfriend with every atom in his body. He grips his cane tight, honestly wishing he could take it back for once. Slowly he limps over to Wilson, "C'mon, I'll buy you breakfast."

Wilson shakes his head.

House reaches for Wilson's arm, "C'mon..."

"I'm not hungry," Wilson says firmly, he really doesn't need this right now.

"That's the point. We go, you order food, you don't eat it." House's persistance is rewarded with a small smile from Wilson.

"Fine."

--

They sit in a booth at a small anonymous diner, ordering possibly the most fattening breakfast ever, not really drinking the coffee. "So... how about this weather eh?"

"House..."

He fiddles with the packets of sugar, "I'm sorry, I'm awful at the small talk... and complimenting you on your shoes and your earrings seems a little inappropriate."

Wilson squints suspiciously, isn't he the one who's supposed to be acting weird? "It's... okay." He shakes his head, wondering if he's dreaming again. Nervously he rubs his hands on his pants, "I-I saw her." He blurts.

"Saw who?" House frowns.

Wilson bobs his head, trying to calculate how bad of an idea this was to bring up with House. He sighs, "I saw Amber..."

House's frown deepens as he glances up at his best friend, he has to bite back the reflex retort of _'She's dead.' _"Where?" He asks instead.

Wilson straightens, House's uncharacteristic behavior is beginning to concern him. "I saw her in the bedroom... when I woke up... she was laying right beside me... I-I had to tell somebody."

"Maybe... maybe she's making sure you're okay," House says quietly.

"You're different... you've... changed," Wilson accuses, pointing a finger at House.

"No. I haven't"

"No, you haven't... except you have haven't you?"

Cameron chooses this moment to float in, greeting them both before sliding in easily beside House. Wilson's eyes narrow slightly, knowing exactly _why_ he has changed. House sees what he isn't saying outloud thanks to the present female company and rolls his eyes theatrically. He is _such_ an idiot.

--

They're laying in bed enjoying a nice quiet evening, House is wide awake unable to stop his thoughts from racing through his mind. Cameron is curled into him, head on his chest, the steady thumping of his heart lulling her into a blissful state of almost-sleep. "Wilson said he saw Amber laying in bed with him _after_ he had woken up."

"You think she's still around?"

"I... don't know," he admits. He used to have a sound theory for the things people saw when they were near-death, or had died and were brought back, but he was beginning to question that theory. "I saw her when I was in a coma. I wanted to stay there but she-she told me to get off the bus."

Cameron shifts, sliding her hand over to cover his heart. "I'm glad you listened for once," she says softly.

"Me too," he whispers, the tears welling up in his eyes. He tries to slow his increasing heartbeat - he feels like such an emotional wreck now. He's been unraveling slowly since the start of this, he feels exhausted, like he hasn't been able to catch his breath. But maybe, just maybe, with this amazing creature in his arms he might, just might, be able to salvage himself.

.


End file.
